the body guard
by BlackNeko20
Summary: buster is the body guard for fashionista muffy, but she's more than that too. when scandal breaks, whose career will be ruined? can either withstand the pressure? rated t for language, sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1

**The Body Guard**

-private request. rated t for adult content.

Chapter One

Muffy was a famous celebrity. She was a fashion designer, a gossip queen, a best-selling author, and arm candy for other famous celebrities. She was beautiful, gorgeous—even on her worst days, she managed to look her best. Her hair and makeup were perfect, her clothes even better. Muffy was the woman of Hollywood.

She had an entourage, muscular men to keep her safe. Buster was one of them. He didn't make it in the academy, moved out to Hollywood to be a screenwriter. He kept up with Muffy online, saw she'd hit it big. He called her and she answered. She let him have the job that day. Buster was elated. He was making good money. He drove a nice car and wore nice clothes. He didn't have many friends in California. The other guys in the crew were it.

Diego was the leader. Tall, tan, and muscular, he'd once been a swimsuit model. Now he was a bodybuilder by day, body guard by night. He talked tough, looked mean, but had a heart of gold. Whenever Muffy had a breakdown on the road, it was him that talked her down. Even her assistant couldn't do that. The men didn't envy Diego for this ability. They envied him for his patience. He could put up with Muffy in ways they couldn't. Plenty had been fired for this very reason: You don't cross a Crosswire.

Diego and Buster shared an apartment with two of the other guys, Raymond and Patrick. Patrick liked nicknames; this week it was Rock Star. He wanted to hit it big in the music scene. His room was trashy, filled with music and posters. Equipment cluttered the place. Diego hated it, called it a fire hazard. Raymond was the neat freak. He snapped rubber bands on his wrists to keep from punching Patrick out.

Buster kept out of it. He was working on a screenplay. He spent most of his time on the computer. Diego shared a room for it. He called Buster "clacker" because he was always typing. He glared at Buster as he worked.

"Hey, man, I'm just working towards my second career," Buster grinned. Diego grunted, "Yeah, whatever man. I heard it a million times. Story never changes, and it never goes anywhere either." Buster scoffed. He'd make it, he told himself. His mom believed in him too, but when did she not?

"Hey, boys, group meeting!" Raymond called. The guys went to the living room. Muffy's assistant was there, Carmen or something. The person kept changing; Patrick called them all Daisy. He winked to her and she scoffed, "I'm here for business. Muffy is going to the club tomorrow night to promote her new jewelry line. You've all gotta be on your best behavior."

"I always am, Daisy," Patrick winked. She ignored him, "Here's the manager's disclosure. You guys are the only other people he's letting in for security. His guys aren't responsible for her. You're on your own." Diego nodded and chuckled, "When are we not? Come on, just give us the blueprints and get back before you piss her off." She sighed, "It's working with you guys that I hate. There's enough copies for all of you. Call me and me only if you have any questions."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Raymond went to his room. Patrick ignored the folder too. Diego sighed and sank onto the couch. Buster sat near him. They studied the plans. It was your typical high-end club. Muffy would be in the Glitz Room, a private room. Lap dances happened there usually, but not this night.

"You ready for another night?" Diego whispered. Buster shrugged. Diego leaned forward, "You don't seem cut out for this. Something is bothering you, something big. You got family sick at home or something?" he asked. Buster shook his head. "What is it then?"

"Nothing important," Buster whispered. Diego pushed him. Buster ignored him. He grabbed a blueprint and went to his room. Diego followed, "Hey, man, I'm not trying to make something. I'm trying to help you out. If you get distracted out there, you're gone. And it won't be pretty. Kiss your screenwriting dreams goodbye."

"I've got this, okay? Buzz off," Buster said firmly. Diego shrugged. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and got online. He really could care less, Buster thought, but he didn't need to know.

Buster was a private person. He was on his own out here. No one to talk to, no one who would understand. He almost liked it that way. No one to barge in with their opinions. But when he needed advice, he was on his own. He was in that boat now. He almost wanted to tell Diego. But that would cause trouble, lots of it.

No one knew Buster had been servicing Muffy for a while. She'd call him to her room. She'd tell him what to do and he'd do it, no questions asked. Sometimes she just wanted to talk, have her feet rubbed—simple stuff. Sometimes she wanted to be plowed, fucked so hard he couldn't see straight afterward. Last night was one of those nights: 2 a.m., strange hotel room in Vegas. She called; he answered. The next day, no word about it. She wouldn't even look at him.

Buster couldn't read her. Maybe she liked him, maybe it was just sex. It meant something to him though. She wasn't his first, but she was the first he could remember, the first to care. She asked him to talk sometimes. She seemed concerned, so he did. He was honest with her, more honest than he was with his own mother.

But maybe it wasn't like that. He didn't know. He was 26 and counting, no real experience under his belt. He needed to know as a writer. He was doing a script about it, a corporate watchdog banging her intern just because she could. He didn't know where to take it. Was there a relationship? Just sex? How the hell was he supposed to know?

Buster's phone buzzed. He looked down. She was calling again. He slipped out, didn't say a word to anyone. Diego eyed him but said nothing. He was a grown man. He could do whatever he wanted after hours. He asked no questions, just kept browsing the net.

Buster stepped into her condo. No one was there, not even her assistant. He went upstairs. She was waiting on the bed, red nightgown and a bottle of wine in her hand. Buster eyed her, waited for direction. She looked him over, so drunk her eyes swam as she turned her head.

"We need...to talk," she slurred. He nodded, sat down. "NO! Stand up," she demanded. Buster obeyed. "They-They want me to—He wants me to—damn it, what's in this stuff?" she scoffed. She threw the bottle across the room. Wine went all over the place. The bottle rolled under her dresser. "Baxter, you-you help me," she said. She threw him an envelope.

Buster looked it over. It was a thick envelope, good paper. The return address was embossed into it. The whole thing felt good in his fingers.

He pulled out the paperwork. It was a legal document. He scanned it. His hands got cold: Someone was suing Muffy for slander, something about her books. 'No wonder she's so damn drunk,' he thought, looking her over. She'd passed out. He covered her, made sure her head was in the right position in case she got sick.

He looked over the letter nearby, watching her sleep between pages. The letter concerned _Wonderful Women: What you Should Know_, a gossipy best seller about Hollywood's famous females. Some were okay with the talk, all good things they said. Others were pissed. Apparently some were so pissed they were willing to sue.

Buster put the envelope on her nightstand. He slipped on his coat and stepped outside. The night guard was there. He eyed him. Buster nodded, lighting a cigarette. The guard asked for him. Buster couldn't think of his name as they puffed together.

When they were done, the guy tapped his shoulder, "It's Frank, and...I know what's going on. A woman like her doesn't know what privacy is, if you know what I mean," he said. He pointed above him. A camera was there. "Everything on tape, you coming and going. As long as she controls the info, y'all are safe. If it gets out of her hands, you're both screwed. You're the writer, right?" Buster nodded. "Well, watch yourself, writer man, or your ass is toast, Hollywood style."

Buster moved back to his car. He went back to the condo. Everyone was asleep, even Patrick. Buster slipped into bed. He thought of Muffy. Why did she really need him? Talk? More sex? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was something worse. Maybe she was breaking it off—he turned over, blocking out the thought.

Frank was right. Anyone with those tapes had power over Muffy. She was in a relationship with a famous male model. He was possessive. He'd dumped women before for so many reasons, public breakups that ruined the women. Muffy had done the same with her exes, but this guy was different. And Buster was in his territory. What if the guy had the place looked into with his own cameras? He'd be more than toast knowing him, and Buster shivered at the thought.

He hoped no one would find out. It was just a service, he told himself. But he was falling for her, putting her into all of his screenplay ideas. He was in trouble. He just didn't even know it yet.

The club was thumping. They circled behind Muffy, let her lead the way. The crowd parted for her. She looked to glamorous for them to just stand there. Buster kept his eye out. He knew tonight was big.

"We've got the door," Patrick called to them. He and Raymond flanked the entrance to Glitz Room. They checked some ID's as Diego and Buster followed her. She sat at the bar, ordered her favorite drink. A few fashion executives were already there. Buster recognized them. His eyes were on the other side of the room. A guy and his entourage were there and they weren't leaving.

"You see 'em too, huh?" Diego whispered. Buster nodded. "I got this."

Buster recognized him once enough people got out of the way. Muffy's boyfriend. His name popped into Buster's head, Smash Phillips. It was a stage name, but it signaled images of violence and gore. He might be a model, but he was bad ass model, always doing something manly. His last ad was for a gun magazine. The video segment had him firing a bazooka. Buster's head buzzed at the thought of that thing hitting him.

Diego approached. Muffy greeted him warmly. The feeling wasn't mutual. The room shimmered with tension. Buster and Diego exchanged glances. This was about to get ugly. They looked up as Patrick and Raymond entered. A fight was happening on the main dance floor. The commotion was terrible. They were trapped in the room.

Buster turned his attention back to Muffy. She looked up to him, "Jack, what's wrong?" Muffy asked. "Did I do something wrong?" He scoffed. Apparently she had. Muffy gave him a hurt glance, "You've been reading the tabloids again. They always lie about me, baby. You know that."

"I know you're a cheater," he said through clinched teeth, "with him," he nodded. He glanced to Buster. Muffy did too. She scoffed, "He's my body guard, nothing more. You know that. I had you review them before we-"

"Well now I know the truth! I checked your phone! I know what you've been up to, calling him over at all hours. Can't the house crew keep track of you well enough?" he asked. Muffy cried, "Please, you're misunderstanding this! I sometimes call them over for meetings. It's nothing! He's just staff! Come on, let's go dancing or something. You can calm down."

"No."

That shook the room. Tension burnt away as he stormed out of the room. Even the commotion outside had gone away. Everyone looked to each other, dazed from the encounter. This evening was over. Paparazzi outside heard it all. Pens were scribbling and phones were out. The story had broken.

"Let's get out of here," Muffy whispered. They slipped out the back. Buster rode with Diego in the lead car. Diego eyed him, "Is any of that bullshit true?" he asked. Buster said nothing. "She's done it before. She paid off some people to keep 'em quiet. Maybe she'll do it again."

'It's fine,' Buster thought. At least he was about to have an idea of what happened next. The next chapter, after the news broke, would be his breakthrough, if Smash didn't literally break him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The story was in every magazine. Gossip shows were flooded with images. Many supported Muffy: This was a member of her staff, a guy who was supposed to be with her at all times. But it had happened before. Others weren't so quick to defend her because of this, these others sleeping with their entourage and trying to cover it up.

Whatever was going on here though, it didn't affect Buster. He was ousted from the apartment, told to hit the road. Muffy gave him a ticket back to Elwood City, told him to get the fuck out of town. He had to agree. She was paying him to do so. She'd think of consequences if he didn't take up her offers.

He was on the plane, hidden by a hat and sunglasses. No one looked at him. They didn't quite know who he was yet. No biographical information, no confirmation—he was still anonymous until someone made the next move.

He kept up with the action on his phone. Social media exploded. It gave him plenty of material for the scandal part, when the news broke. He prayed for a happy ending as he landed in Metropolis, hailed a cab bound for Elwood City.

His mom took him in without question. She fed him dinner, told him everything about work. They hadn't talked in months, maybe a year. Buster felt guilty, but he'd been busy. Muffy was his life for the last year-plus. What else was he supposed to do?

"Oh, and Arthur is in town. He saw me the other day in the office," Bitzi announced. Arthur left town right after graduation for school. Buster didn't keep in touch. "He was with someone but I didn't know who she was. She looked familiar though." Buster nodded, "Jenna Morgan, well Morgan Read now," Buster told her. Bitzi nodded, "I remember their announcement now! They made such a cute couple," she grinned. "Is there anyone special in your life?"

"No," he replied. He was too quick to answer. Bitzi noticed, "That had a tone to it. Recent breakup? It's okay. You can tell me anything," she pried. Buster resisted, "I just needed to be out here again. The weather is so-"

"Don't lie to me, Buster. The weather is shit and you know it," she growled. The weather was shit, 31 degrees and rain in the forecast. It'd be an ugly night. Buster was back in town for a reason and Bitzi wanted it. Buster resisted, "Can't I just come back home every once in a while? It's awful out there. Maybe I just needed to come someplace kind of nice, or at least the kind of shitty I can deal with."

"Fine, don't tell me. I honestly don't care, Buster. I'm just trying to help you," she muttered. She flipped on the television. A tabloid show was on. Muffy was all over it. Bitzi sighed, "Are you letting her business get to you? I mean, you do still work for her, don't you?" Bitzi asked.

Buster was astounded. His face was everywhere but she was oblivious. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to give it away. Bitzi was frustrated, "Fine, keep to yourself. You can stay here as long as you like, but keep that attitude in check. I didn't raise you to be an ass like your father."

Buster drowned her out. The gossipers were going crazy. Smash Phillips had fled the country. Muffy was apparently heartbroken. Would she turn to that body guard of hers for comfort? So much speculation, such a mind-numbing experience for Buster. He jotted down the headlines in his phone. Then he flipped the channel. Cartoons. He thought of changing it. A yearning for childhood filled him. He left it there for hours.

Arthur looked Buster over. They were in the Sugar Bowl, both getting lunch. Everything outside was awful, wet and frozen. The only successful commuters were pedestrians. They filled the diner looking for a hot meal.

Arthur didn't want conversation. Buster didn't either, but Jenna was there. She flew out of the bathroom like a fairy or something. She hugged Buster. He didn't push her away but he wanted to. She invited him to eat with them. Arthur shook his head. Buster did the same. Jenna wouldn't have it. She ordered for all of them, her new-found confidence from high school still in place.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered. "She knows about your problems. She must want answers," he added. Buster shrugged, "Not like I have anything. I'll eat with her but be thinking of a way to get us out of this."

Arthur carried the tray to the table. Jenna gave out the food. Buster stared at the table, tried to eat in silence. Jenna wouldn't have it. She was pushy. She wanted details about California. Arthur tried to defend him, "Come on, babe, he wants to eat in peace. Maybe we should let him go." Jenna argued, "No, he's fine. Look, he's enjoying his burger. He can't take it with him, not in this weather. Just tell me how warm it is there now."

"Use your phone!" Arthur hissed through gritted teeth. Jenna gave him a hard look, "You are just as curious, Arthur! You need to catch up with him. He's your best friend! Come on, ask him!" she demanded. Arthur shook his head. They squabbled, then Arthur gave in. He sighed, "I just want to know what it's like being Muffy's body guard. The tabloids-"

"Are lying," Buster interrupted. "I don't know what's going on, but that's what they always do." Jenna scoffed, "But Muffy would totally do that, use her power over her staff. Her own mother got caught with a gardener once-" "Jenna!" Arthur pleaded. She grinned, "He just doesn't want me to know all the secrets," she winked. "I just want to know what it's like to work with her, not the juicy bits."

Arthur nodded, "That's all we want." Buster nodded, "Well, it's just your standard body guard job. I guard her from creeps, keep her safe. I don't know what they're saying in the gossip columns but that's all I ever did, I swear it," Buster whispered. His eyes flickered. Jenna didn't notice but Arthur did. Buster realized it and looked down. One burger down, one more to go. He grabbed it and ate it as fast as he could.

Buster escaped when the food was gone. He rushed home, tried to find something to do. He had nothing right now, and the story wasn't going fast enough. No new updates, just talk. He couldn't write a whole screenplay about talk.

His phone buzzed. Buster looked to see Arthur's number. He thought he'd lost it, but there it was. Arthur wanted to meet up. Buster invited him over. Arthur was there quicker than Buster expected. He admitted he was in the neighborhood. They sat in the living room.

"So, it's true. Muffy's boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, was right," Arthur guessed. Buster nodded, "But I don't know how he found out. No one really knew, just me and her, maybe a few night guards. One just warned me, but I doubt this has anything to do with him." Arthur sighed, "You never know, but I can't believe this. I thought you hated her."

"At first, I did. She thought she was better than everyone else. Something changed when she became my boss. I needed money, she had it. It was all good. The servicing? Well, I never thought that would happen. She just called and made demands one day. I accepted. I was bored and horny. She offered herself to me like a buffet."

"Is she in wild in bed as they claim?" Arthur asked. Buster grinned, "You have no idea. Toys, handcuffs, the whole deal sometimes. I don't know how some of these people keep up with her, Smash included." Arthur nodded, "I thought so. Francine used to talk after they had a falling out. I thought she was bullshitting, but I see the truth now."

"Who all's left in the city that might think bad of this?" Buster asked. Arthur shrugged, "Depends on where this goes. Is Muffy throwing you to the wolves?" he asked. Buster shrugged. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. All I can say is I'm sorry. We should've been in touch more. Maybe I could've talked you out of this craziness."

"I'm hooked now," Buster admitted. "I like her for some reason. I can't explain it." Arthur shook his head, "Lust is powerful. Jenna was right earlier. Her mom pulled the same thing. Ed forgave her, but that gardener had to leave town. In this, you're the gardener. I hope you made other connections out there because this one's dried up." Buster shrugged, "I don't know who's on my side."

"I'd find out soon," he said, standing. "Jenna wants me home. The weather has her uneasy. I agree with her, but maybe it was seeing you again. This is going to get ugly. She wouldn't have sent you here otherwise." "Who said she sent me back?" Buster asked. Arthur stared at him. Buster nodded, "You have a point. Be careful out there."

Arthur left. Bitzi arrived a few minutes later. She ranted about the ice while cooking dinner. Halfway through, the power went out. Buster used it as an excuse to go to his room. The power was out all night. He didn't mind at all.

Muffy looked up. Her agent smiled and slid into the chair in front of her, "You haven't left home since the story broke. How are you handling this?" she asked. Muffy shrugged, "Smash thinks I'm the devil, my staff is completely lost. What am I going to do?"

"That's why I'm here. I have a plan," the agent smiled. This agent was Margaret Friedman, better known as Firestorm. She was good at starting shit, fanning the flames—making problems bigger than necessary. Hollywood thrived on this sort of drama. Muffy just wasn't ready to be a part of it rather than writing about it.

Firestorm leaned forward, "You're throwing that body guard under the bus. Hard. Hurl him under there. You've got tapes. Say he snuck in, took advantage of you, abused you behind the scenes. Pay the others to agree. A little hush money never hurt anyone. Then Smash will take you back...if you promise to use his men," she said. Muffy realized why she was here. She was working for him. She really lived up to her nickname.

"Buster is an old friend. I can't do that. He's trying to be a screenwriter," Muffy cried. Firestorm scoffed, "So is half of California, Broadway, and everywhere in between. Fuck him, Muffy. If you want Smash back, if you want your empire to live on, you cut this guy loose. What's he going to do, defend himself? Pay him off. Get him a good job back home. Just don't let this bring you down."

Muffy was tempted, so tempted. She had the power to do this. She could pay off Diego and the others. It'd be worth it to save her business. She looked up to Margaret. There really was fire in her eyes, a storm in the background. Muffy nodded, "Let's do this. You'll do all the dirty work?" "As long as you sign the checks, I'll do whatever you want."

The letter came suddenly. Fancy paper, embossed return address—Buster knew the envelope's contents before he opened it. He made sure he was alone. He was glad to do this. As soon as he broke the seal, a check flew out. 25,000 was on it. The letter told him to expect 25,000 more—Muffy was buying him off.

Buster flipped on the television. Muffy and Smash were top headliners on the gossip stations. Together as one, the scandal an illusion. Hollywood had done it again, and Buster was in the crossfire. Stay quiet or be decimated: Those were his options.

Buster wrote them down. Then he took a walk to think things over, careful to avoid the slick spots he remembered from his childhood. It was damp and cold outside, bitter to all parts of him. But his heart felt the coldest. Muffy had betrayed him. And he wasn't about to stand for it, not for one second.

When he got home, he burned the check. He called a contact in Hollywood, a guy with connections to a tabloid magazine. He'd offered Buster money before for a good story. Now he had one, his own, and he couldn't wait to sell it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"New from overnight, scandal has rocked Mary Alice Fashions founder, Muffy Crosswire. Now tell me, Alan, what exactly happened? Muffy was just showing off her reconciliation with Smash, and now this!"

Buster flipped off the television. He'd flown all night to get to California. The tabloid guy wanted that. He laughed in the other room, his blue tooth headset glowing on the wall. Buster looked out the window as he sipped coffee.

The guy returned, "Man, Baxter, you nailed her! So, we've gotten a letter from her lawyer. She's threatening slander charges if you don't recant. But!" he exclaimed. Buster waited; the guy was laughing too hard to speak. He held up another envelope, "I just got a disk from one of her night guys! I've got footage of her berating you. Isn't this great?"

Buster shrugged. He didn't want to be in this game. It was affecting his screenplay. But he couldn't sit back and let her ruin his reputation. He looked to the guy. His name finally came to Buster—Kevin Crawford. Buster leaned back in his chair and took another sip of coffee.

"Why aren't you impressed with this? Social media is exploding. People are on your side! The latest hashtag is MaryAliceDiva! You started that with your story!" he exclaimed. Buster nodded, "I know. I'm trying to protect my future." Kevin scoffed, "What, that whole screenplay thing? You could be D-List celeb right now, and you're worried about that?" he asked. Buster didn't move. "Fine, you are. Um...what do you have in the works right now? Anything close to being done?"

"Just stuff from college," Buster replied. He took a screenwriting class in college. It was for shows; he wanted to write a movie. He didn't enjoy it but it taught him the craft. He'd finished 2 scripts that year. One was decent enough to peddle, the other wasn't.

"I know some guys we can get in touch with, but Baxter, Buster—you've got to embrace this. Muffy is known for this shit. Half of Hollywood is. You have to fight back unless you want to be tossed in the shredder—and believe me, she'd do that if it weren't a felony," Kevin laughed. His joke wasn't that funny but Kevin was always laughing.

His phone buzzed. He left the room. Buster picked up the disk. A laptop was on nearby. He popped in the disk. The clip was from a bad event. Someone recorded it from a balcony. Buster couldn't remember who was up there. He was too busy getting his ass handed to him by Muffy.

"Diego, it was a simply request: Keep them away from me! No pictures! How come you and the guys couldn't do that? I mean, do I just pay you to check out women and get drunk at parties? No! I pay you to serve me," Muffy hissed.

The camera turned. The yelling continued in the background. Buster didn't need the video. He remembered the chewing out well—a photographer got into her dressing room at an event and they all almost lost their jobs. The surprise? Who was holding the camera: Fern.

"Oh. My. God. I always knew Muffy was crazy, but this is insane! You're famous! Shit happens! Why do you have to make such a big deal out of everything?" Fern hissed. The camera turned back. The slap landed and Fern gasped. Buster's cheek tingled at the memory. It was a vicious slap. He was lucky he didn't get scratched.

"Get out of here! I'll let the event staff finish everything off!" Muffy hissed. The body guards left. Smash appeared, his entourage around him. Fern kept shooting. Buster leaned forward. Smash was egging her on, offering his guys to her. Muffy wasn't sure. Fern found it boring and put away her phone; the clip ended.

"So, what do you think? Think we got a case?" Kevin asked. Buster nodded and stood. "Hey, where are you going?" Buster turned around, "I've got business." Kevin shrugged it off as Buster disappeared.

Fern was a journalist. After a burnout in college, she decided to write other people's stories for a living. She and Buster didn't keep in touch. He knew she wasn't in Elwood City anymore. He didn't know she was in Los Angeles with him. He stepped into the newspaper office. The secretary immediately ushered him into a private elevator.

"Miss Walters has been expecting you," she said. The elevator shot up. Buster felt dizzy as the doors opened. The lady led him to a nice corner office. The view was amazing. Fern sat at her desk, typing something furiously. Buster sat down. The secretary closed the door on her way out.

"I knew you'd show up," Fern grinned. She turned to him, "How in the hell did you get involved with this, Buster?" she asked. She shook her head, "Nevermind, I don't want an answer. I want to help you though. Muffy almost ruined me when I came out here. If I didn't have a forgiving boss, I'd still be at your mother's paper. No offense to her, but that's not where I wanted my career."

"How'd you get the video?" Buster asked. Fern shrugged, "VIP pass to the event. I was doing a story on the headlining designer. He got me the pass. I just happened to hear Muffy screaming so I decided to check it out. She thought that guy was some bigshot photographer," Fern chuckled. "He's still in film school. He didn't even get any good pictures. He was lost, not looking for a story."

Fern sighed, "When she slapped you, I downloaded the video into my computer. I knew I'd need it. Kevin and I are good friends, and I remember seeing you two at an event together. You were keeping him away from Muffy, but I could tell there were other motives. You knew you needed him too."

"I guess I did," Buster nodded. Fern smiled, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Buster. I've heard the rumors that she seduced you. True or not, your reputation depends on you fighting this the right way. Muffy is a royal pain in the ass. Her boyfriend is the same way. They're nightmares. I want them both dealt with.

"But this is your battle, not mine. I'm a background ally. Kevin is editing the piece. No one will ever know it's from me. I want your word too, otherwise you're on your own," Fern grinned. She was devious. Buster liked it. He extended his hand. She shoved a pen into it. A contract manefested like magic, "Sign the contract. I don't do verbal deals anymore. Too much speculation."

A knock sounded. Buster had to leave. He returned to Kevin's office. The video was edited and uploaded to his site. Other gossip blogs and magazines and whoever had bought it. Kevin made money, the story got further. Buster sank onto a couch, semi-satisfied with his day.

Then his phone buzzed: Muffy. Buster let it buzz itself out, then it started again, same number. Kevin noticed and chuckled, "She's heard. You might not want to answer that." Buster nodded, "I don't intend to. I'm done with her, and I have enough people on my side to feel that way. Anyone else sending things in?"

"Nope, but social media is blowing up," Kevin grinned. "I think we have ourselves the headline of the century." Buster doubted that, 'Decade, maybe,' he thought. Kevin was laughing though, so it all must be good.

Talk shows wanted Buster. Kevin wanted to wait. Buster wanted to talk, to push the plot further. His screenplay depended on it. He got dressed up and went to the studio. They redressed him and slathered on makeup. He appeared on the show, told them what they wanted to hear.

Within the hour, Muffy was calling to complain. She tried to have the episode pulled. No one would listen to her. This was too good a headline to let it slip away. They recorded her call and put it on the next day. Social media exploded, Kevin laughed, and Buster felt himself growing comfortable. As long as everyone saw her as a diva, his reputation was safe.

He got a new apartment outside of town. He spent his free time writing when he wasn't doing interviews or ignoring Muffy's calls. He knew how to keep himself busy while the scandals raged on.

What he didn't expect was for her to find him, well, sort of. A pounding knock sounded. It was 11:30, too late for most visitors. But most visitors weren't Muffy's employees. Buster peeked out and saw Diego. He decided to let him in.

"Man, you've stirred up the biggest shit storm I've ever seen," Diego panted, rushing inside. "I can't stay long. I just thought you should know that whatever you're doing is working. Some stores have pulled her label, some shows have refused to have her. It's all a huge mess."

"I just wanted to protect my name," Buster said. Diego nodded and smiled, "Well, you're doing it, Baxter. I wanted to find you on my own. Muffy thought of hiring a private investigator. I swore to do it, but I'm on your side. Now that you're gone, we see what she is. She's a monster. She's got dirt on all of us. Patrick can't leave because of his music, I can't leave because of my body building. If my coach found out about this, he'd have her ripped in half. But then his rep would be on the line too."

"And Raymond?" Buster asked. Diego shrugged. No one knew what he had to lose. His background was unclear to all of them. All they knew was that he was a neat freak, nothing else. Diego sighed, "I just can't believe this, man. You better watch yourself. She has the right to sue you and then you'll have nothing. And if she spins these headlines the right way, which she will try to do, you're still fucked. I think you should've stayed gone, Baxter. It's the only way to stay clean in this city: Leave."

"I'm too deep in this now," Buster sighed. Diego nodded, "My point exactly," he said. He looked outside. He cursed under his breath and asked about a back entrance. Buster didn't know of any and peeked out to see the problem.

One of Smash's cars was outside, a bunch of people in the back.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Diego found his way out. Buster remained inside. A few minutes after Diego left, he heard pounding on his door. Buster peeked out. Smash was there. Buster moved to his bedroom. He had a gun there, small but useful. When the knocks shook the whole door, he called out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you! I've got a gun and if you come in here-"

A shot fired. It was way off, hitting somewhere in the kitchen. Buster hid behind a wall. Smash kept up his game. The door heaved. Buster watched as it fell to the ground.

As it did, he heard yelling from the hallway. The landlord was there. He said cops were on their way. Smash was pissed and went after him. The landlord ran but they chased him. Buster didn't know what was going on but it sounded like they locked him in a closet. Then they barged into his room.

Smash led the way. He couldn't see Buster at first. He had a gun in his hand. Buster didn't hesitate. He shot him in the arm. That gave away his position though. He ran into his bedroom. He was on the third floor so he couldn't jump out the window. But he could hit his way out. He grabbed a metal bat out of the closet.

As he did, blue lights flashed on the wall. Smash's guys ran. They left him bleeding in the living room. Buster found him. Smash tried to get away. Buster hit him and knocked him to the ground. A cop entered. Buster threw down the bat and raised his hands. The cops handcuffed Smash.

"How many shots were fired?" the cop asked. "Two," Buster said. He nodded and helped lead Smash out. On their way, they found the landlord. Smash's guys were gone. Buster and the landlord couldn't identify them, even after long questioning. Buster had no new information just that Smash was pissed about something.

Kevin looked Buster over. Buster was frazzled, his beard not shaved. Kevin knew what happened, as did everyone in Hollywood. What no one knew was why. Why would Smash do something like this? Did he intend to kill Buster? The cops sure thought so, and his judge wouldn't offer him bail either.

"What do we do from here, Kev?" Buster asked. Kevin shrugged, "I don't know, man. I've never seen anything like this. Usually they do something more private if they're going to rough you up. This idiot made the national news. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it. I don't like it one bit."

Kevin normally laughed and smiled a lot. Today his face was blank. Buster looked out the window. Their expressions matched. They sat in silence, waiting for something. After a few minutes, Buster checked his phone. He wanted to know what people were saying. He wanted to know if he could add this to his plot and have it go somewhere.

Everyone was baffled. Why would a guy like Smash do such a thing? Everyone wanted to know. No one wanted to talk. And Smash was still in jail, so he couldn't talk. Only Muffy could.

Buster looked up to Kevin, "What's Muffy got to say about all of this?" he asked. Kevin thought for a minute, "Don't know. No one's seen her in a few days. She probably flew off somewhere more private." Buster disagreed, "No, Smash was pissed about something. Why else would he bring his whole entourage?"

"I don't know, but...maybe we should've stayed out of this. Maybe she is too powerful to fuck with. I don't know, but I just have an awful feeling about this," Kevin whimpered. Buster looked to the door. Someone was knocking. Kevin opened it. A woman in dark sunglasses came in, her hair covered by a shawl. Kevin eyed Buster as he offered her a seat.

"Thank you," she whispered. When the door was closed, she uncovered herself. It was Muffy. Buster exhaled slowly. Muffy nodded, "I figured you wouldn't be happy to see me. Look, I don't know why Smash did that. I'm just glad he didn't hurt anyone, especially me," she said. She pulled off her sunglasses. Her right eye was black.

"Did he do that, 'cause that counts as hurting you-"

"Yes, he did," Muffy nodded. "We found out I'm pregnant. I haven't had intercourse with him, only you. I thought I was on the pill, but I guess I missed a few. Smash wanted to hurt you. I don't know why. I just want this to end, that way we might be able to be a family."

Kevin threw up his hands and left the room. Buster watched him leave. Then he looked back to Muffy. She looked fragile. He'd never seen her like this. She'd been broken somehow.

And yet, he didn't believe her.

"I thought we had something. I thought I liked you a little. I know it was just sex but we had potential. I won't be tied down like this. You used your power over me. You did this to yourself. If you're pregnant, then it's your problem. I'm done. I think I'll go back home and forget all of this ever happened."

"What about your screenwriting career? You wanted that so badly!" Muffy cried. Buster shrugged, "I'd rather keep my plays to myself than let someone like you ruin me. I'm going home. I won't tell anyone anything anymore," Buster whispered. He grabbed his coat. Muffy reached for him. Buster pulled away, "No, Muffy. It's over. This is your problem now. You're the big powerful celebrity. You figure out what to do."

Muffy cried, pleaded, and begged him to stay. But Buster was done. He left the office. He found Kevin at the water cooler. Buster could smell alcohol in the air. He was tempted to get a drink himself. Instead, he asked for a private room so he could book his flight. Kevin showed him into a storage room. He lingered for a moment.

"So, what's going on now?" Kevin asked. Buster looked up. A soft smile was on his lips, "Nothing anymore. I'm going home. I'm going to find something to do for myself back east. I'm done with this place. Being shot at showed me how stupid all of this is. If that's the game they want to play, I'm out."

Kevin asked about his screenplay. Buster shrugged him off. Kevin left the room, leaving him alone. He didn't see Buster leave. All he knew is that Muffy was gone, her shawl left behind. Kevin wondered what would happen now. Like Buster, he almost didn't want to know.

It'd been a few weeks since he left Hollywood. Buster was a clerk at a hardware store. He was helping a guy fix a shovel when his mom came in. Buster had left all his things behind. He claimed he didn't want them, but Bitzi wanted him to have his stuff. She handed him a key.

"Everything is in a storage locker outside of town. Do what you want with it, but please don't run away like that again. Kevin was so worried about you-"

"Kevin? How did you get in touch with Kevin?" Buster asked. The door opened. Kevin stepped in. He was still in his Hollywood garb. Buster grinned and shook his head, "So, how's he involved?"

"I broke the story of Smash living up to his name on Muffy's face," he grinned. "I got good money pulling my security tapes for proof, and Smash? Well, he's not getting out of jail anytime soon. She's not pregnant, thankfully, but that's more good for her than you. I did some reading. If she forced you-"

"My mom's standing right here," Buster grimaced. Kevin blushed, "Sorry, Ma'am. We'll talk business before I leave. I hear there's a nice diner we could hit up." Buster nodded, "The Sugar Bowl. We'll go when I'm done with work."

Kevin looked him over, "Damn, you really are done with Hollywood." Bitzi nodded, "He's done with his screenplay too. He put his computer in his old room and got a new one, a blank slate. Nothing good would've come of it, he said." Kevin whistled, "Wow, I just...wow, Baxter. You surprise me more every day."

Buster shrugged as another customer came in. He shooed them away. He'd meet up with Kevin later for lunch. They talked as guys, not cohorts in a grand scheme. Buster realized they'd be good friends if Kevin didn't thrive on Hollywood drama. When he left, Buster would have to find new friends too.

Arthur and Jenna wouldn't be his friends. No one from his school days could be his friend now. They hadn't been where he had. The only ones who had were corrupted by celebrity, even Fern. Buster didn't want that life anymore. He'd find himself again. It would just take time.

Muffy was facing her own dilemmas. Her brand was in trouble. She had to fix it somehow. She came out with a new perfume line. It only made a profit when she advocated for domestic violence. She promised never to be with a guy like Smash again. The public loved it. They seemed to forget the whole scandal just to get her fashions again.

She was lonely though, so lonely. She thought of calling Buster every day. It was just sex, power over a subordinate, but it did mean something. It wasn't much but it was something. It was done now, over and finished. She'd never have a guy like him again. She'd learned her lesson. She knew it was best not to mix work and fun, and that she had to pick the right guy for her. A body guard wasn't the right guy.

Life would move on. Even if they didn't want it to, they had no choice. Everything had an order. Buster knew that now, and he was glad to be free of it. He'd write again but not now. He needed to recover first.

~End


End file.
